Afraid to Love
by ArizonaRoseWolf
Summary: John and Sherlock meet several times before being adults. Each time, John is there when Sherlock needs somebody, even if he doesn't realize it. When he does realize it, will it be far too late? This is rated T because I am a very cautious person.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is Sherlock's POV. I do not own Sherlock. This is sad.

...

I was bored. The moronic woman who was watching me didn't seem to get that. I understood that mummy had to work and I wasn't old enough to go to school but daycare was degrading. None of the others wanted to spell actual words with the blocks with letters, they just made leaning towers. And started crying whenever I tried to use the blocks and one kid, named Sebastian threw one at my head. So I was in the corner, bored and alone. Again.

The door opened and the woman brought another boy in. He was a few years older than me, had short blonde hair, and bright blue looked around the room and went to play with the others. When they ignored him and threw a block at his head, he wondered around the room before noticing me. He asked me if I wanted to play and I said, "No, there's nothing fun here."

He looked at me and said, "We can be pirates!"

I'd always wanted to be a pirate so we spent the rest of the time before mummy came building a ship out of the toy boxes and swinging from bookshelf to bookshelf. I was the captain and he was the captain's right hand man.

When I was leaving with mummy, I realized that I hadn't learned the boy's name. He wasn't there next week, or the week after that. I went back to sitting in my corner after realizing that being a lone pirate was no fun. I needed my right-hand man.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: You're probably thinking that this should not be rated T because Ora's all fluffy and innocent right now. I implore you to be patient, I am building up to the good stuff. Also, do not get offended. I, myself, am not straight, gay, bi, or asexual. I'm not fond of labels and I really don't go into any of the aforementioned sexualities. I mean no offense to anyone.

...

Being in secondary school and going through puberty is annoying. I've decided that the feelings thing is overrated and stupid. They keep going on about how guys are supposed to be attracted to girls. But I'm not. I don't understand. Girls are annoying and idiotic. They say that guys are supposed to feel a fluttering in their stomachs when girls they find attractive are around. I think Sebastian is attractive. But he's a guy and guys are supposed to like girls.

Mycroft says I like guys because I'm gay. He says that I should be careful because people look down on homosexual people. They're afraid of what they don't understand but it's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not stupid. Obviously there is a taboo on being gay. Otherwise he wouldn't warn me to be careful.

••••••

As I lay curled on the ground in an alley, I realize I should have listened to Mycroft more closely. Sebastian and several others from my school are kicking at me and saying things like "freak" and "psychopath." They hate it when I deduce things about me and now they know that I'm gay.

I can't feel my arms or legs. My vision is starting to fade when I hear a voice shout, "Oi! What do you think you're doing?! Get away from him." A familiar blonde stranger with blue eyes, who I can't quite place says softly, "What have they done to you?"

Strong arms lift me up and I can't help but yelp. The arms feel safe. The guy, who can't be much older than me and plays rugby, smells faintly of cinnamon and pumpkin. I bury my face in his ridiculous jumper, trying to get warm. He carries me to the street and hails a cab. "St. Bart's please"

He still hasn't remove his arms from around my shoulders. "Take it easy kid, let me see the damage." Gentle hands turned my face to look at him and a frown appeared. "They really did a number on you. Do you know why?"

I hung my head, his patient and gentle expression drawing the answer from me, and I said quietly, "Because I'm a freak and I'm gay."

"Being gay and being different are nothing to be ashamed of. I'm gay and so is my sister. People say things because they're afraid of the unknown. It unnerves them. Don't let it get to you." I looked at him warily.

•••••••

He brought me to the hospital and took me inside despite my protests. He seemed generally worried. So I went through an examination and by the time I had my ribs and wrist wrapped (which was a shame because that meant no violin), the familiar stranger had been dismissed by Mycroft. I hadn't even learned his name.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This will be my last author's note for a while. I apologize I. Advance if I insult someone. I don't own Sherlock. I promise I haven't given up on my other story.

•••••

I walked down the hallway. Their taunts called after me. It was even worse. Word had spread around that the Stranger had saved me. Only Sebastián had twisted it so that it seemed as if he had attacked them for no reason. Nobody was interested in the fact that they had thrown the first (and only) punches.

There were so many people. And all of them moved away from me. Like I was some kind of disease or something. And every time it felt like the tiniest bit of my soul was being worn away. Like someone was slowly running a knife through my gut. Agony working its way through my veins. I was alone in a sea of uncaring and cruel humans. At times I felt I wasn't one. I observed. I spoke what I observed. But I didn't lie and I wasn't intentionally cruel.

I was so tired of this. As I neared my class, I noticed Seb and his crew waiting for me. They were like a pack of hungry wolves. Ready to devour me. Make me lose more of my soul.

Not today. I was done with emotions. Done. I turned on my heel and strode back the way I had come. There leering taunts followed me down the hallway but I closed them out. I walked out of the building and didn't turn back. I would never go back.

For three days I stayed in my room. Three days, I locked my emotions so deep inside that I couldn't feel anything. Three days in which I neither ate nor slept. Three days of mummy and Mycroft pleading for me to come out. Three days in which I considered the Stranger's words. Three days in which I contemplated whether or not living was worth it. World-weary. That was a phrase that suited me well.

When I did come out, nothing appealed to me and nothing bothered me. I ate little and I ignored everyone who didn't interest me. I was not interested in going back to school. I could study on my own. The Stranger who had stopped them occupied my thoughts. I was determined to find him. At night, I let my violin wash over me, cleansing me. I would find him because I had to. Then I would learn his name.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite net best efforts, I could not find the Stranger. My studies were fine. I had taken several tests, at mummy's insistence, and had been deemed university worthy. I would begin my first year of uni next fall. In the meantime I had my experiments to distract me.

They worked for a while but my thoughts always returned to the Stranger. No matter what I did, I could not forget him. I made what I call my Mind Palace and filled a room with all the information I had gathered from observing him but it wasn't enough. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Mycroft started acting like an overbearing pompous fool because he had gotten a government job and was quickly working his way up their slimy ranks. I was getting tired. Locking up emotions was quite an effort. Even though I played my violin every night. (I never let anyone hear me, I went out to the shed to play).

Then, when I was at college. I discovered cocaine. It was a miracle worker. I didn't care. I was finally free. I was what I figured was the equivalent of happy. And then it was all shot to hell.

_I paid my usual dealer and went off to find a private place. I had gotten more than usual because I was feeling off. I knew it was a bad idea to use it all at once, but I had an inordinately grueling day. For about ten minutes I was the happiest I could ever remember being. And then my heart started hurting and my vision started darkening. I felt like I was being held under water and I couldn't find a way out. I felt my legs crumble and I fell against a tree. I felt my heart stutter._

_I heard shouting. "Somebody call an ambulance! Looks like an overdose. Kid, hey kid, no. Don't shut your eyes." A sharp pain spiked through my lungs, burning like vomit in my throat, as my muscles started to seize. "You're gunna be okay, you're gunna be fine, just try and breathe. Short, shallow breaths. That's it." A warm hand against my chest. It was him! The Stranger! I tried to make a grab for his arm but darkness overcame me._

I gradually became aware of a steady beeping and a very painful headache. I wished desperately for some water. As if reading my thoughts, a warm hand tilted my head up an held a glass to my lips. "We have to stop meeting like this."

My eyes shot open, and immediately narrowed to slits. It was _bright_.Painfully so. "If you would just tell me your name so I could find you this wouldn't keep happening."

"Are you saying you purposefully overdosed, just on the off-chance that I might save your sorry hide?"

"No. I'm saying that I find you an interesting person and I would like to know you're name."

"John. John Watson."

Finally. A name to the face. "Sherlock Holmes. I'd say it's a pleasure but seeing as I'm in a hospital, I think I'll forgo that."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So, I do not, for now, intend to make them have a romantic relationship, however it will get fluffy. Please forgive the Americanisms, i am american. And here's where we left off:

_My eyes shot open, and immediately narrowed to slits. It was so. "If you would just tell me your name so I could find you this wouldn't keep happening."_

_"Are you saying you purposefully overdosed, just on the off-chance that I might save your sorry hide?"_

_"No. I'm saying that I find you an interesting person and I would like to know your name."_

_"John. John Watson."_

_Finally. A name to the face. "Sherlock Holmes. I'd say it's a pleasure but seeing as I'm in a hospital, I think I'll forgo that."_

I watched curiously as John shook his head slightly and said, "Ta, Sherlock. It's never good to be in a hospital unless you're working there."

"How long are you going to be interning here?" I watched him carefully for any sign that I was pushing him away.

"Till Christmas break, at least. How'd you know I was an intern?" He inquired, his tone still warm, his eyes on the notepad where he was recording my vitals.

"You're not dressed as a doctor nor do you have the uniform of one. You're writing my vitals long-hand which means you still haven't mastered the short cuts that doctors learn in school. You made you're lunch at the dorm rather than eat out because you're struggling to pay for med school, your parents are busy trying to get your sister through rehab and its a drain on resources planned for your schooling. You've stayed up late the past couple of days because you have another big test coming up soon. You're also majorly stressed about your girlfriend. Dump her, she's cheating on you." I said this all in one breath and then bit my lip. He'd probably be furious about the girlfriend comment.

"...That was...are you always like that?" John seemed stunned but not angry or disgusted. Yet.

"I say what I deduce." I reply warily.

"That was brilliant!" I was speechless. No one has ever called me brilliant before. To mummy and Mycroft I'm normal. To the rest of the world I'm a freak. The disbelief must have shown on my face because he said, "I mean it Sherlock that was amazing!"

I couldn't help the smile I felt forming on my face. He wasn't lying. And he wasn't fascinated in the creepy scientist way either. I felt my eyelids getting warm and I said sleepily, "Stay for a while?"

Even to this day I'm not entirely sure I didn't hallucinate him saying, "Of course, Sherlock." Or the feeling of his hand running through my curls.

A/N: Sorry I'm being so slow, I have exams coming and I'm trying to avoid studying by running. Sorry this is such a short chapter. Please review, I will give you hypothetical Internet rainbow cookies. And thank you to those who have reviews on this and my other stories. I promise I haven't given up on Night . I'm just hashing out some details to make sure they aren't too gruesome. ^^


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I am alive, I promise. I am working on the next chapter for Night. Also i apologise for any medical errors. I'm basing it on te very little i know so it is most likely completely wrong. And now it's time for me to post another chapter.

I woke up slowly. A hand was holding mine and I could here voices discussing me. That must mean Mycroft's here...bleh. "I am concerned as to why an intern is assigned to my brother. He is at the hospital because he needs a doctor, not some medical school student who can barely afford the shoes on his feet."

"With all due respect sir, Mr. Watson is perfectly capable, he will be a great doctor and there is a doctor assigned to your brother, however we are rather short staffed at the moment since two of our main doctors were in a crash."

Mycroft's voice grew icier with every word he spoke. "That is not my point. My brother-"

"Is just fine with John being the person to look after me. If they are short-staffed it is better to allow their doctors to take the more pressing illnesses." I muttered, and I was most definitely _not_ sulking.

"Ah, Sherlock, you're awake. Good. Mummy will be stopping by to talk to you soon. You've upset her. And do open you're eyes."

"Why should I?" I demanded. Mycroft was not in charge. If the pompous git wanted to go off to uni and never write me back, that was his problem and not mine. Far be it from me to care.

"Because I made this trip to see you and it would be polite to _open your eyes._" Control freak.

I opened my eyes narrowly and glared. He looked the same, except for an umbrella. Honestly. Mycroft could be so dramatic. Stupid umbrella. "Right. I've seen you, now leave."

"Not until you-"

"I said LEAVE!" The heart monitor sped up an a little alarm went off. I couldn't breathe. Black spots appeared before my vision and my chest felt like it was burning. I thought I heard Mycroft saying something but I couldn't tell what. Then strong hands were on my shoulders, pulling me into a sitting position. I fell forward onto their chest and heard someone saying softly, "Breathe, c'mon, breathe with me. In...out...in...out."

I copied the movement of their chest with mine, taking shaky breaths. Once my breathing became easier, the bed was adjusted to where I was in a reclined sitting position and the strong hands guided me back to rest against it. I opened my eyes (when had I closed them?) and saw John's worried face looking down at me, along with Mycroft who was hovering. "Alright, Sherlock, what hurts?"

"Nothing." He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Right. Now what hurts?" I glared at him but he didn't back down. Great. His face took on a distinctly impish look and he said casually, "Lungs, head, ribs."

I'm fairly certain my mout fell open. He just chuckled and said, "You're holding your ribs, you winced when you opened your eyes, and your breathing is too shallow. Your lungs, ribs, and head hurts. So does your throat."

I opened my mouth to deny it all and the only thing that came out was a croak. I started coughing. Immediately he was holding a cup of water in front of me and had a hand on the back o my head supporting it. "Easy does it 'Lock. Nice and slow." I drank the water as quickly as he would allow, desperate for something to ease my throat.

When he removed the cup, he said, "Better?" I nodded and he turned, addressing one of the nurses who had flooded the room at the alarm. "See what Dr. Martin says about pain meds for him and write it his down on his chart?" A red-headed nurse (dyed red, not natural) nodded and left the room. A brown haired nurse (natural color with highlights) went to my chart and started scribbling.

The woman who had been arguing with Mycroft (a nurse supervisor) turned to him and said, "I assure you, Mr. Watson is capable of taking care of your brother."

John looked from me to Mycroft, a slight frown on his face. "Brother?" He mouthed. I rolled my eyes, which hurt, and nodded. He looked between us again, trying to find similarities. There weren't many. I preferred to think there weren't any.

I made a face and John gave a sympathetic grin. Then he turned and addressed Mycroft and the supervisor, "If I'm not wanted here, I'm fine with being moved but shouldn't it be the patient that gets to choose? If it's a formal complaint then the standard regulation is the patient, if they are able, can back the complaint or they can veto the complaint, yes?"

The supervisor stuttered and Mycroft raised his eyebrows slightly. John shifted into a slightly more defensive position and added, "What do you want to do, Sherlock? Do I stay or go?"

"Stay." I said immediately. Mycroft looked at me sharply, confused as to why I wanted John to stay but I ignored him and looked at the supervisor. "He stays."

Mycroft sniffed daintily and said, "We will discuss this later, brother." Internally, I groaned. This qualified as Not Good.

A/N: So, this is the next chapter and I just realized I used the actor who plays John in BBC Sherlock's name as the doctor... *busts out laughing*


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So I've finally gotten my lazy summerified brain to write something for you and here it is. Also, this is John's view (and any other character besides Sherlock) in third person because I feel like we need some of this from his viewpoint but writing both him and Sherlock in first person would most definitively confuse me. ;)

John left Sherlock wince he fell asleep and went to get some coffee. He had a feeling that it would be a long night. He had to tell his parents how he planned to pay for his school. Not that they would understand the choice but he'd been to a military academy when he was younger and he had rather enjoyed it. "Mr Watson." The voice cut across his thoughts, it was Sherlock's brother. "What is your connection with Sherlock?"

John turned and studied him. He seemed like a nosy git. Or maybe that was units his nerves about talking to his parents getting to him. "It's not my place to say anything if Sherlock wants to tell you, he will."

The man made a slightly disgusted face. One that said 'who is this tiny human and why is he being stupid?' "Sherlock and I do not have the best of relationships. He is rather...dramatic...at times and he does so love to hold grudges. He once shut himself in his room for three days and would not come out even to eat or drink and he wouldn't tell us why. I believe he felt abandoned when I left for university." Mycroft snapped his mouth shut, feeling slightly disconcerted. He hadn't meant to say that much but this Watson character was so easy to talk to without realizing it. He must be more careful in the future.

John stared at the man in front of him. Why was it that whenever strangers talked to him they ended up spilling their guys to him? Was he really that harmless-looking? "Have you considered trying to talk to him? Finding something in common?"

Mycrostated stared at him a minute before whirling around and striding away. John blinked for a few minutes before shaking his head and muttering "Or not."

A/N: I'm sorry its so short, the big reveal to his parents, and to Sherlock, will either e in the next chapter or the chapter after that. I'm thinking I might make Sherlock and John get closer before he tells Sherlock but I don't know.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: heeeeeyyyyyy, I'm alive and done babysitting for now. (Thankfully, I love helping little kids but my patience is only so thick). So I'm writing! I wrote a new story thing and added to Night so now I add to this. (And I'm starting to think I have a better time writing fluff so be prepared for fluffiness in the following chapters. I decided that this one is John talking to his parents. Also I have no idea how military contracts work on any continent so I am making it up as it suits me. Also I feel it necessary to state why John didn't just get military help with enrollment in the first place so I'm going to tell you an age for John and for Sherlock. Also, I am making John smarter than most people think he is because I want John and Sherlock close in age. Sherlock will be recently turned 18 and John will be 20. John will also be halfway through med-school which would put him in college at 16. I'm saying he duo enrolled (for those who don't know it's when you're in high school and college at the same time). I'm also going to say about a year passed between when Sherlock first met John and when he met him the third time. Dear me, I sincerely hope you read this author note and I apologize soft its length. I ramble WAY too much. And I apologize for being a horrible person and not posting the right chapter in the first place and not realizing it til now.**

"JOHN HAMISH WATSON, YOU'RE DOING WHAT?!" John flinched and dragged a hand across his face. At least nothing's been broken. Yet.

"The only way for me to pay for college is to join the military or take out a loan and Watsons don't do loans. And the military will keep me out of trouble."

Both of his parents snorted and his mom said, "Sweetheart, wherever you go trouble will find you. You've got your grandmum's bad luck."

"Which is exactly why you aren't enlisting." His dad added, glaring.

"I've already enlisted so there isn't anything you can do. I'm a grown man capable of making my own decisions. The military will pay for the rest of my schooling and in return I give them 4 years of service starting after I finish basic. I'll probably stick with them longer. I hope you're willing to stay in contact with me but if you're not I understand that, too. This is my choice and I wish to help Queen and country."

Both his parents blinked at him and them his dad said, " I feel bad for your superiors. They're gunna need a lot of beer."

"What he means we're proud of you, of course we want you to stay in touch, and try not to terrorize your supervisors."

"Hey, I'm not that bad." A pause and the sounds of laughter filled the kitchen until the three Watsons had tears running down their faces.


	9. Chapter 9

**So as I said in the last chapter, I miss posted the wrong chapter for chapter 8 but it is now fixed. And because I am an extremely peeved child (because I haven't been able to write for so long, again my apologies) I am going to make Sherlock have a meltdown. The little voice in my head that sounds like sherlock is complaining but oh well. I don't own Sherlock, if I did then John would have come up with a plan for Reichenbach.**

John stood at the door to Sherlock's room, wanting to enter but not quite daring. It had been a week since he had told his parents and his mum had started looking at him like he was going to be in the ground soon. His dad still drank, but surprisingly, he was drinking less than he had. He and Sherlock had become quite close, or at least John thought so. It was sometimes hard to tell with Sherlock. But John was off to boot camp next week so he wouldn't be Sherlock's doctor. (Sherlock had decided that only John was allowed to look at him.)

"You may as well come in John, I know you're there." Sherlock called out. When John entered, Sherlock did a cursorary glance over him and said, "What's wrong, you're unsure of yourself and upset. What's happened?"

John ignored the demand and looked him over. Sherlock had realized that the fastest way to get information out of John was to let him do the checkup first. So he remained silent, though it pained him. John finished the even more thorough than usual checkup and then said, "Everything looks good, the doctor should be clearing you to leave any day now."

"And why won't you be clearing me to leave?" Sherlock knew the answer but thought that if he asked the question then maybe, just maybe, John would prove him wrong. But he didn't. John was saying something about the army and med school but Sherlock couldn't here it. His ears were ringing and they wouldn't stop. He wanted the white noise that John usually made him forget to stop. His hands reached up to slide in his hair and tug at his ears. John was saying he needed to calm down but he couldn't. John was leaving him. Just like everyone else did. He needed the noise to stop. Everything needed to stop. He clawed viciously at his ears and yanked on his hair, curling into himself.

Hands on his pulling him into a muscled chest. Rocking. Back. Forwards. Back. Forwards. A voice rumbling through the chest. Saying over and over, "Sherlock, my Sherlock. Breeaaathe, Sherlock, breathe. I've got you."

Another voice, not so long but long ago. A different voice uttering the same words. Mycroft. No, John. This was his John. Who was going to Afghanistan. There's a war in Afghanistan. Sherlock sobbed and clutched at John until the darkness took him as John's final words washed over him. "Sherlock, I'll always find you. I'll come back to you. For you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Heeey! I'm gunna try and write at least one chapter for at least two stories each day but I promise nothing also, a reminder: Sherlock is 18 and John is 20. (Remember I made him smarter than the average** **person).**

_Sherlock sobbed and clutched at John until the darkness took him as John's final words washed over him. "Sherlock, I'll always find you. I'll come back to you. For you."_

John held Sherlock even after he passed out. He felt so bad that his news had caused Sherlock to panic. But he'd be back. No need to fear. He had no intention of leaving Sherlock on his own. Someone had to watch out for him. The door swung open and in walked Mycroft. He paused at the entrance, frowning. Yes, this probably doesn't look good, John thought. He was sitting on the bed with his side leaning against the head of it and Sherlock was almost entirely on his lap, curled up and clinging to his jumper, face buried in the crook of his elbow. But it wasn't like he could move without waking Sherlock, who didn't sleep enough as it was.

"He didn't take the news of you leaving well." It wasn't a question but he nodded anyway. "He's sleeping."

Another statement that John felt the need to reply to. "I would've moved but I didn't want to wake him."

"Let him sleep." He hesitated a moment and then continued, "Doctor Watson" - ("not a doctor yet") - "Nevertheless, you will be soon and I would be willing to pay a meaningful sum of money I you were to stay with my brother and watch him. You mean quite a lot I him."

John felt his spine stiffen. "Are you trying to bribe me, Mr. Holmes?"

"Not at all, merely offering...a good reason.. to stay. And of course, you would report to me."

"I will _not _be-" Sherlock started to stir and he cut off quickly. Sherlock snuggled further into John and then fell still again. John lowered his voice and said fiercely, _"I will not be bribed!"_

Mycroft stared at him icily before straightening and walking back to the door. He paused and said, "Very well. Once Sherlock wakes or moves you will leave. You will not have contact with him. You will not see him again or the consequences will be..._unpleasant_."

**Heeey, sooooo, anyone who was reading Night, I apologise but I couldn't continue that story, I was mapping it out in my head and, to be quite honest, I didn't like where it was going. It was headed to way to dark a part of my brain, one that I try to avoid. Plus, there really is a lot of post-Reichenbach stuff and I felt like it was just too much. It was too dark and unpleasant. I like to actually connect with what I'm writing, and Night just wasn't working. However, I make a promise here, where hopefully lots of people will view it, that I will not ever delete a story again without warning and the opinion of the viewers. **


	11. Chapter 11

**So this chapter is going to be sad. Also, I've kinda switched Sherlock's POV to 3rd person without realizing it so I'm gunna just keep it that way unless it serves my purposes to have in be 1st person again, in which case I will tell you in advance that that is what I'm doing. I hope people are actually reading theses things, otherwise this might get confusing. ;)**

Sherlock stretched, then groaned. He had a headache and his throat was sore. His face was buried against something warm and solid. When he remembered what'd happened he wrapped his hand around the fabric by his head and squeezed his eyes shut. John was leaving. John was leaving to go get shot at. But he hadn't left yet. Maybe Sherlock could convince him to stay. Or he could just refuse to move. But no, John was shifting slightly.

A warm hand ran gently through his curls and he purred inspire of himself. John chuckled. The vibrations helping to soothe his headache. The hand stopped petting him for a moment but Sherlock nudged his head against John's hand. John huffed and said teasingly, "Are you a cat?"

Sherlock grunted.

A moment of silence and then John said, "I should be going."

Sherlock ignored him and moved so that he was more fully laying across John's lap. John wasn't going anywhere even if it meant Sherlock had to attach himself to John's leg like a 3 year old. He. Wasn't. Going.

...

John tried prying Sherlock's fingers off his shirt but Sherlock just ignored him and grabbed a fistful of his shirt with his other hand. John tried moving to stand up and Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's neck. John tried making as if he were falling over but Sherlock just balanced them. John tried standing and moving and Sherlock wrapped his legs around John's waist.

"Sherlock, I _have_ to go." Sherlock buried his face in John's neck and said like a petulant two year old, "No."

John kissed Sherlock's forehead, sat down and rearranged Sherlock so that he was sitting sideways on John's lap, and tried to give him the glass of water. Sherlock refused to loosen his hold on John's neck so John held the glass to his lips and helped him drink.

"Stay."

"I can't."

"Please, you're my only friend."

John felt as though his heart was wrenching out of his chest. "Your brother has given me an ultimatum. Either I stay here with you and spy on you, or I leave and never talk to you again."

"Stay."

"I won't spy on you."

"You don't have to, and you would make a horrible spy."

"I have to go, I'm already signed up and I won't go back on my word." John hesitated, then asked, "Can your brother really make it so I never see you again? I need to go to war, but I also don't want to lose you."

"He can try, but if he does he'll regret it."

"I'll come back."

"If you don't I'll come find you and then I'll handcuff us together and make it so no one can unlock it. You'll never be out of my sight again."

"We'll see each other again before I ship out."

"Yes."

"But I have to leave now."

Sherlock didn't answer except to get up. When John was past the door, Sherlock strode over, turned him around, leaned over, and kissed his cheek. "Come back in one piece." He shut the door and leaned against it. Then he looked at the scowling and said, "If he dies, I will destroy the world."


	12. Chapter 12

This is after John has been through basic. Also, Sherlock hasn't had his last growth spurt yet so he's not as tall as he is in the show.

...

John waited anxiously, scanning the airport. He had sent Sherlock an email the day before yesterday. Sherlock had gotten Mycroft to agree to allowing John and Sherlock to stay in contact but John had no idea how he'd done it. So over the course of Basic Training and RAMC training, John and Sherlock had several conversations and come to an agreement. Sherlock would get clean and John would stay alive.

As long as they kept up their aide of the agreement, everything would be fine. John would visit every leave and Sherlock would make sure to assign a day and a time period for Skype. John had suggested he work with the police. When Sherlock had protested vehemently that he woud never work for the police, John had interrupted him and said, "I know. I'm not saying work _for_, I'm saying work _with_. Consult them when they need help."

Sherlock had agreed that he would be okay with that as long as he worked on his own terms.

John's hand tightened around the package. He hoped Sherlock liked it. It seemed suitably dramatic for him.

…

Sherlock tapped impatiently on the divider and said, "Can't you go faste?"

The taxi driver grunted, then said, "What's your rush, kid?"

"Not a kid," Sherlock responded automatically, "And my soldier is getting shipped out today."

"We'll why didn't you just say so? Why my Bill…." Sherlock ignored him and clutched the small package tighter. He hoped John liked it.

….

John sighed as he looked at the plane. Sherlock wasn't coming. Jack, a friend from Basic, placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Sorry, mate, it doesn't look like your guy's coming."

"I-"

"JOHN!"

John turned in time for Sherlock to barrel into him. Sherlock clung to him and said, "Sorry I'm late the stupid taxi was possibly the slowest driver I have ever seen and then there was and accident we had to go around so I thought I wasn't gunna get here in time and then you'd leave and I wouldn't get to-"

"Breathe, Sherlock." John squeezed Sherlock's shoulders. "I got you something."

Sherlock ducked his head against John's shoulder and said, "I got you something, too."

"Are you gunna let go so I can give it to you?"

Sherlock held on to John tighter. John took him gently by the shoulders and pulled him back a little.

Sherlock relyctantly let go and held his package out to John. He accepted the package John held out to him and then said, "Same time?"

"Yes. On three."

Sherlock grinned and said, "Three."

They both tore off the wrappers. Sherlock held out the coat to study. It was a dark not-quit-navy blue, it would go down to about his ankles. It had many hidden pockets and also seemed to have a water-proof lining. Along one side of the collar, engraved in tiny lettering, was 'Mystery will follow you, Murderers will be found because of you, I will forever belong to you -JW.' He loved it.

John shared at the dog-tag in his hand. 'Could be dangerous -SH'

….

It was an ongoing joke between them. They had been sitting in the hospital and Sherlock had asked why John hadn't really said anything about his drug habit. John had paused before saying, "The drug's are your way of living dangerously. Mine is going into the army. Most people who want their adrenaline going choose to go sky diving or rock climbing. Neither of us are normal."

Sherlock had grinned and said, "So you're saying you're attracted to danger?"

"Yes."

"So if I said, 'could be dangerous' you'd come running?"

"Maybe."

"I'll keep that in mind."

…

John attached the dog-tag to the chain with his others, then hugged Sherlock. I'll call you as soon as possible.

Sherlock hugged him tightly and said, "See that you do."

He watched John until he could see him no longer, then watched his plain take off.


	13. Chapter 13

I'm aliiive! Sorta got distracted but I'm back. An remember Sherlock is shorter than in the show.

The night John left, Sherlock wandered through London, editing the map in his head. He had the coat wrapped tightly around him and the collar rolled up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed flashing lights. Drawn to them, he hesitated at the edge of the caution tape, circling almost like a shark.

He'd listened as the police chattered, stating theories and photographing evidence. He stopped as he noticed a footprint at the edge of the caution tape.

He dropped to the ground and studied it. Sherlock slipped his phone out of one of the pockets and snapped a picture of it.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing!" A nasally voice demanded. Above him stood a rat-faced man in an unflattering blue sterile suit.

Sherlock froze, then straightened to his full height, tilting his head slowly to the side. He towered over the man. "You missed the one footprint that can help you catch a killer, what does it look like I'm doing?" Sherlock drawled.

The man spluttered. He turned and beckoned a female officer, "Arrest him, he's messing with evidence."

"You'll find that I have not touched the evidence, merely taken a picture of it."

The woman pulled out handcuffs and Sherlock rolled his eyes. Then he froze. As the woman cuffed him, he said to her, "I don't see why you're having an affair with a married man, if he's going behind his wife what makes you think he wouldn't go behind you? You could do so much better."

The woman tightened the cuffs and demanded, "What? I don't know what you're implying but you need to shut it."

"What's going on here?" Sherlock turned his head in the direction of the newcomer. Male. Early 40's. Detective.

"This _man_ was messing with evidence." The man sneered.

"This true?" The newcomer asked Sherlock.

"I looked at it, I did not touch it." Sherlock shifted slightly, exposing the handcuffs.

"Oi! Those are way too tight!" The newcomer gently took Sherlock's wrists and uncuffed them. Sherlock turned to face a man that came up to about his eyes and had graying hair. "Greg Lestrade." The man said and extended his hand.

Sherlock hesitated before extending his hand, keeping a weary eye on the two having an affair. "Sherlock Holmes."

Rat-face snorted. "What kind of name is that?"

"Anderson! Have you logged the footprint? No? Do it. Donovan, back to the other side of the barrier." Both of them scurried away. "Need ice for that?"

Sherlock immediately stopped rubbing his wrists. "It's fine." He said sharply. He missed John.

"You saw the footprint." The man's eyes narrowed. "Anderson wouldn't have found it if you hadn't been here…seen anything else?"

"You're looking for a red-headed female, the hair is died and long, she wears combat boots so most likely ex-soldier or wife of a soldier because they are a man's shoes but are too big for her feet, and she's nearby."

The man blinked and then said, "Did you see what happened here?"

"No, I deduced it."

"Deduced?" He asked skeptically.

Sherlock got sight of movement in the fire escape. "Yes, and in truth she's sill here."

With that he was off, ignoring Lestrade's shout. He jumped, grabbe the ladder, swung to the railing and tote walkway, through doors and around sharp corners. Finally she turned and swiped at him with a knife. Sherlock skidded and ducked under the knife, slipping on the tile and falling flat on his back.

The woman adjusted her grip but before she could stab him, someone tackled her. Lestrade pulled her up, slammed her against the wall, and cuffed her.

"You are an idiot." He huffed at Sherlock.

"Genius with a tendency towards stupid."

"Say what?" Lestrade blinked.

"It's something Jo-a friend of mine says."

"Well your friend isn't wrong."

"Of course he's not."

"But I did help you catch a murderer."

"While almost getting murdered yourself."

"But I didn't."

"Anyone ever tell you you're insane?"

"Yes."

"We need your statement."

"I deduced the murderer, pursued suspect, you followed and caught the suspect."

"I mean officially."

"No."

"No, what?"

"No I will not give you my statement. Call me the next time you actually want to find the murderer."

And with that Sherlock fled.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys, sorry I'm being so slow, Real Life has decided to make its presence known to me. Anywho, I may come back and add what's going on with John overseas or create drabbles (depends on your opinions) this is after Sherlock has been working with Scotland Yard for about a year. Which means he is now...19?...I haven't slept in three days, I'll get back to you on his age.**

**... **

To whom it may concern:

We regret to inform you that on December 1st, Captain John H. Watson, M.D. has become MIA (missing in action). Captain Watson had been on patrol when his unit was attacked. He is presumed dead.

Sincerest apologies,

General Jedediah Donovan

A short note. Not long enough to be considered a letter, but a note. A fucking _note_. And it was his fault this had happened. If he had been more careful, if he had fought harder against Brooke's attack, John would have been alright. But no. Brooke managed to get him high and John paid the price.

He's no longer aware of where he is. He can't breathe, can't think of anything other than John. JohnJohnJohnJohnJohnJohnJohnJohnJohnJohnJohnJohnJo hnJohn…

A scream, so wounded and raw as to make even a murderer flinch away in horror, ripped its way out of Sherlock's throat. "**_NO_**!" Sherlock dropped to the ground curling in on himself and leaning his forehead against the walkway.

He heard nothing, nothing but Brooke laughing and saying, "I know of your past addict!" The feel of a needle in his arm. Of John holding him, John laughing, John carrying him, John kissing his forehead, Jihn telling him it's better to be who you are then fake being someone else.

Then hands were on his shoulders, but they weren't John's hands. Sherlock reared back, scrambling away. But the person followed and pulled him into her. "Sh-sh, you're okay. Easy does it, what's a matter? Sh-sh."

…

Seargeant Sally Donovan flinched as Sherlock Holmes let out an almighty scream and fell to the ground. A paper fluttered down next to him and she slowly picked it up. She read it, then read it again.

While it was hard to believe Holmes would have someone he cared about, she knew he was being legitimate. You don't fake that kind of pain. Her dad had been in the Army and she remembered the day her mom had received a similar letter.

Carefully, approaching Sherlock as she would a wounded animal, she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. As soon as she came into contact with him, he snapped away but she didn't let him run. It would be so much worse if she let him. She pulled him into her arms and set about calming him.

She knew if he didn't say something soon he wouldn't say anything later. When she asked him what was wrong, he stopped fighting her and started clinging to her like he was drowning. "_John_." It sounded so heartbroken.

"C'mon, up, up we go." She let him lean heavily on her as she pulled him to his feet. She half-turned to Lestrade and said, "I'm commandeering your car, you drive."

He just nodded, looking shocked. Almost everyone at the scene looked shocked. Not surprising, Holmes didn't lose control like that.

Once she manouvred them both into the back (Sherlock was still clinging to her), Lestrade spoke. "Where to?"

"Do you know his address? Or somewhere he finds safe?" Lestrade shook his head. His phone pinged and he looked to find a text saying _221B Baker Street -M. Holmes_.

"Who is M. Holmes?"

"I dunno, Lestrade. Probably a relative." Sally ran a hand through Sherlock's surprisingly soft hair. He seemed to have gone into the comatose state of denial.

…

Once at Baker Street, Sally and Greg half carried half dragged Sherlock up the stairs. A tall man with a slight resemblance to Sherlock took him from their arms and laid him on the couch. "Ms. Donovan, if you would be so kind a to stay. Inspector Lestrade, you may leave."

And with a slight nod from Sally, Greg left her to fend for herself.


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm alive and running! Can I jut say, those of you who haven't watched Lilo and Stitch most definitely need to...on to the story.**

(Day 2 after John is presumed dead)

Sally sat and watched Sherlock. He hadn't moved from the fetal position on his couch since they ha dragged him up there. For the first first few hours he had attacked anyone who got to close. Then, after Sally had been struck hard in the face, she had snapped at him, "You're not the only one who's lost someone overseas! Now stop fighting the people who are trying to comfort you!"

He had froze, his entire body tensing. Slowly, she had reached out and ran a hand through his hair. His glassy gaze focused slightly on her and when she repeated the action, he leaned into it. He leaned into it so much, he almost fell off the couch. Chuckling slightly despite the circumstances, she shoved him over slightly and sat down. He half climbed in her lap.

She felt almost like she was comforting a five year old. Only the detective wasn't a five year old and she couldn't bring it in her to lie to him.

Now, after a long night, she decided it was bet to get him cleaned up and moving. She ran her hand trough his tangled hair. Comb his hair, have him help make breakfast, then go on from there.

"Sherlock. Sherlock. Wake up. Sherlock." She said, and her voice slipped into the tone she had used when getting her mother to get out of bed in the morning. It worked better on Sherlock than it did on her mother. He sat up and ran a hand across his eyes while stretching.

Then he froze and his face blanched. He had remembered. She pulled him into her arms and held him while he sobbed silently. After what felt like hours, he pulled away slightly. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. Just then, the woman from before, Mrs. Hudson, came bustling in, carrying a tea tray. She didn't say a word, just set it down and then went into a room adjacent to the living area. When she returned, she was holding a comb and a jacket that obviously wasn't Sherlock's.

She set the comb down and pulled gently on Sherlock's arm until he let her put the jacket on him. He curled back into himself. Sally picked up the comb and started brushing through his hair. "Tell me about him."

Sherlock hesitated. Then he began to speak.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys I'm updating on time! So anyway, this is a short chapter because I desperately need your opinion before I continue. This story can go one of two ways: the first is I add a chapter before Sherlock finds out John is "dead" explaining why he was dead, and then have chapter 17 be John surprising him. The second way is I have John surprise him in the next chapter and then write a side thing about what John was doing in Afghanistan before he foot shot. Your choice so please either PM me or review and tell me what you want. Yeah this is a long author's note. My apologies.**

...

"The first time I met John, I was five and alone in daycare. I never did learn his name but he played pirates with me. Then when I was a teenager he stopped a group of guys who were beating me up, took me to the hospital, and stayed with me until my brother kicked him out. I still didn't know his name. Then I got high only I-"

"Wait, you did drugs?" Donovan asked sharply. Sherlock arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Do you still use?"

"Only I overdosed. I was in a park. He was there and I'm told he did CPR for the eight minutes it took the ambulance to get there. When I woke up, he was there. And I finally learned his name. Then I sorta passed out. When I woke the second time Mycroft-"

"Who's Mycroft?"

"My intefering older brother. You met him earlier, i believe."

"The guy in the suit?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"-was arguing with the nurse supervisor trying to get an actual doctor to watch me even though the staff was short. I'll admit I got kinda panicky. But John was calm and told Mycroft off without actually directly saying anything to him. It was hilarious. We've been close since."

"..."

"Yes, I'm clean now. Have been since I was hospitalized. Or I was until..."

"That case."

"..."

"Is that why you were freaking out when they had injected you? Because you were worried it would cause a relapse."

Sherlock hesitates before saying slowly, "John and I made a deal...that if I stayed clean...if I went cold turkey...that he would stay alive if sent overseas...but I didn't stay clean...and now he's dead. He's dead and it's my fault!" Sherlock started rocking agitatedly.

Sally knelt in front of him and forced him to meet her eyes. "That was not you going back on your promise. That was not your fault. There was nothin you could have done."

"..."

"Sherlock."

"..."

"He loved you Sherlock. And I think you loved him to."

"..."

"So tell him. Say it aloud. Let nature hear you. It's entirely possible that he's alive. Bodies are mistaken on the battlefield all the time. Give it a month. If you don't hear from someone saying they've found him, then yes he's dead. But it's not time to mourn just yet. Tell him you love him, an maybe nature will bring him back for you."


End file.
